I believe that, sometimes, it's cathartic to think back and to feel emotions long gone, feelings about parts of your story that are long closed. Our past selves are part of our present self. It's helpful for me to be in tune with myself in this way. Maybe these poetic musings of mine will be cathartic to someone else out there, too.
I was so incredibly
undeniably
smitten with you.
I knew, somewhere in me, the types did not--would not
That I would be forever flustered by your attention
or lack thereof.
I wondered:
If I was more alluring, more enticing,
less needy
less available
If I would have been viable to you.
Because it wasn't that you weren't ready.
It was that you knew a lack of steady
would be you -- smitten with me.
What changed?
What difference?
Why now a reaction?
"Nothing,"
his response.
Just my persistence
but not even a fraction
of himself did he trust to remain. To give.
To allow to see me and live
in the idea of us.
You could pretend, but were also honest
And I, honest with you and myself said
I was so incredibly
undeniably
smitten with you
That just pretend
I could not do.
